


Nein Guys Walk Into A Bar

by lucyinthesoupwithcroutons



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Random drunk bar men are assholes, Surprising NOBODY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyinthesoupwithcroutons/pseuds/lucyinthesoupwithcroutons
Summary: Caleb is just trying to read by the fire, but there's a drunk man in the Leaky Tap who's bad at taking No for an answer.Molly hadn't planned to end the day in a barfight, but sometimes life just has other plans.





	Nein Guys Walk Into A Bar

**Author's Note:**

> (Hey just a heads-up there is briefly... not sure how to phrase this other than Implied Attempted Non-Con? in this fic? Details in the notes at the end, and it's pretty brief, but just for anyone who'd need to be sure of treading lightly there!)
> 
> Hello and welcome to my first published fic in, *squints at ao3 history*, 6 years. Good Lord. Widomauk has stolen my heart and started the fic machine again, I guess?
> 
> Big thanks to and-classics for beta reading and shoutout to the Widomauk discord for being encouraging/enablers.

It had been a long day for the Nein. Nothing life-threatening, nothing that was going to add to any of their nightmares, but long. Draining.

Still he supposed, tomorrow when they dropped by the King's Hall with Jester's freshly collected jar of owlbear beaks, the coin would be more than worth it. Not to mention the relief for the farmers outside the city with their animals being safe again.

As they shuffled into the Leaky Tap, Jester – fresh out of both spells and pastries – had decided to call it an early night. Beau had lured Yasha out on the town under the pretence of showing her 'just, a real _bitchin_ ' sword, man' in one of the shops in the Tri-Spires, and the remaining members of the Nein had settled into the bar after shrugging off their packs upstairs.

Molly felt unable to settle just yet. Something about the discordant screeching roars of the owlbears had set his nerves on edge and now he really needed something to do with his hands. He claimed a table to himself, close enough to where Nott, Caleb, and Fjord sat that they could still talk if needed, and expertly fanned his cards across the full width of it.

“So,” He declared, standing up with a flourish and clapping his hands together, feeling the relief of slipping into his showman persona. “Which of you _lovely_ people needs their fortunes told?”

~

As the sun went down there was a natural dip in clientèle in the bar - a transitional period where the social drinking hours were coming to a close but the hard drinkers and partiers hadn't quite come out yet - and the lull in prospective customers gave him a chance to indulge in a little people-watching.

He stretched his arms above his head, a noise like a satisfied cat slipping out as he arched his back, and cast his eyes around. He'd picked it up as a habit from equal parts necessity (re-learning how to be a person from an almost blank slate was much easier with references to go by), genuine curiosity/fascination, and the extra flourishes it often added to his readings.

Of course, if he was being completely honest, these days the habit had shifted to being at least twenty percent Caleb-watching. Maybe Molly was biased, given that they were literally dating, but there was just something captivating about him. He hid himself away behind such high walls and such an impenetrable shell, that it made the little glimpses of what lay underneath so sweet to witness. More and more he was beginning to let those walls come down in their alone time – the soft smiles meant for only the two of them, the late-night confessions Caleb still couldn't quite meet his eyes while making, the shameless, needy sounds set loose as he let Molly undo him with his clever fingers and tongue – but he still didn't think he'd ever find himself getting tired of even the simple, more public ones. The gleam in his eyes when he was enjoying a book was a particular favourite.

Nott, nearly falling asleep mid-drink, had finally been coaxed up to bed about an hour before by Caleb’s cajoling, and Fjord must have slipped away while he was engrossed in a reading since he was nowhere to be seen.

_So that leaves..._

He grinned and shifted his gaze over to the small nook by the stairs, where Caleb spent most of his downtime these days. Sure enough there he was, sitting in the warmth of the fire with his head in whatever book Jester had thrown his way most recently. Molly smiled to himself, thinking of the endless line of cheap paperbacks she'd started bringing him after their trip to Chastity's Nook. Most of them were truly dreadful, but the gesture was sweet. Not to mention he had a wonderful time making Caleb blush and laugh while he performed dramatic readings of them. Judging by the cover of the one he currently held, she must have taken Fjord's pleading about not filling their magic haversack with mediocre porn to heart, because it finally looked like one you could read in public. He couldn't catch the title from this angle, but there was a definite lack of heaving bosoms and rugged, wind-swept men on the front. Tilting his head a little further, he thought it looked familiar; possibly the book Pumat had recommended to them.

Caleb was engrossed, whatever it was. One hand rested under his cheek as he leaned into the side of the armchair, the fire casting shadows across his face and through his eyelashes as his eyes danced back and forth across the page. It made quite the romantic image.

As though he sensed someone watching, his eyes flickered up, wary. Molly met them with a slow smile and the tension immediately disappeared, replaced with a soft smile of his own.

 _Hello there_. Caleb mouthed softly at him, an endearing crinkle forming around his eyes.

 _Hello yourself_. Molly curled his fingers into his most flirtatious wave and shot him a wink, turning back to shuffling his cards as Caleb ducked his head, blushing. The soft warmth of the fire was filling the tavern and a matching warmth spread through Molly's chest.

 

~

 

It was maybe twenty minutes or so later when things started going south.

It started out fairly benign, with the barmaid delivering a mug of ale to Caleb that Molly hadn't noticed him ask for.

“With compliments from the gentleman at the bar.”

“The lavender gentleman?” Caleb asked, smiling gently as he took it. “ _Danke_.”

“Um. No, I believe he was blonde.” She gestured over. “The one standing at the end of the counter there.”

A quick succession of emotions flitted over Caleb's face – surprise, disappointment, embarrassment, discomfort – and he pushed the mug back towards her like it had burned him, nearly spilling it on the poor woman.

“I- I, ah. This is-” His voice had gone small and tense. “Please tell him I am, ah, very flattered but cannot accept, I am sorry.”

He looked up, lost and slightly red in the face, to meet Molly's eyes.

 _You ok?_ Molly mouthed over at him, stifling a laugh. After a moment of no reply, just Caleb's mouth still hanging open slightly, he jerked his head towards the stairs with a questioning look.

Caleb shook his head like he was trying to dislodge something, then again slower to indicate 'no'.

 _I am alright, don't worry_ , he added with a weak smile, hastily burying his face back in his book to escape.

Molly worried his bottom lip with one of his fangs, trying to puzzle out if his company would help, or if Caleb wanted to be left to his book to pretend nothing had happened. Behind the book, his face was sinking down into his own scarf and had turned beetroot red with embarrassment, so he thought he'd give him space for now.

His eyes drifted over to the blonde at the bar who was having his drink returned to him. He had to admit, he was certainly handsome, if a bit vacant-looking. That could have easily been the booze though; Molly remembered seeing him _already_ nursing a drink several hours ago when they first arrived. Not strictly his type (or Caleb's he suspected), but broad, well-built, and probably in possession of a decent amount of coin. His hair was combed back neatly and he was noticeably pretending _not_ to be flexing his muscles as he reached out for his rejected mug of ale. His expression soured as he took the explanation from the barmaid.

Molly's attention was pulled back to his own table by a boy he doubted was old enough to be drinking the beer in his hand, who’d come to ask if the cards would help him with his love-life. Like most who came to hear from Molly and his cards, he was more in need of a bit of advice or a shove in the right direction than intervention from the Fates.

He was in the process of deciding just what combination of cards would best represent the idea of 'no, seriously, she's too old for you, she's not going to date you, stay in school, etc.' when Caleb's voice snatched his focus again.

“...told you, I am flattered but would just like to continue my reading.”

Molly looked over and Caleb's hands were up in a placating gesture as he drew back slightly into his chair. The blonde man was looming over him, clearly used to getting his own way, still proffering the drink and looking vaguely put-out. He was either oblivious to – or more likely outright ignoring – the fact that Caleb had gone stiff as a board.

“If you don't wanna drink, how 'bout a walk then?” He leered. The only word for it was Leered. “I only want to get to know you. You're being kinda rude.”

“I am very much not interested, I'm sorry, please leave me to my book.” Caleb mumbled, resolutely not meeting the man's eyes. His grip on the book was white-knuckled at this point, his body utterly still but his eyes wild.

Molly slid the cards back into one solid deck again by muscle memory. Not letting his eyes leave the scene for a second, he stowed them away in his coat where it hung on the back of the chair.

“Sorry kid,” He murmured absently. “The cards say it looks bad for the two of you. Stay in school and out of bars.”

In his peripheral vision he saw the boy’s taken-aback face. Molly absently noted him begin to protest but, after following Molly’s livid gaze to the scene across the room, he dropped it and left the area as quickly as he could manage.

 _Smarter than he looks. He might do ok after all_ , Molly thought fleetingly, before bringing all of his attention to rest on what was happening with Caleb.

“C'monnnnnn,” The blonde slurred, leaning in further, ignoring Caleb's increasingly obvious flinches away from him. “You need to relax, blue-eyes! Come with me outside and we'll get better acquainted – I'll show you a good time.”

The stink of stale beer and unearned confidence was drifting even as far as where Molly was as the man talked. He could only imagine the strength of it from Caleb's position. His hand tensed over where his swords should be, finding only empty space, belatedly remembering he'd shrugged them off with his pack upstairs. He gave his coat a quick pat-down on the off chance he'd left _something_ sharp or intimidating in one of the pockets as a backup, but no such luck.

He was heavily debating with himself which Caleb would be least happy about – him making a scene in the inn they were staying or having this asshole in his personal space a moment longer – when he heard a softly murmured ' _yes, of course. That would be nice_ ' fall from Caleb's lips. His blood ran cold.

His eyes snapped back up to confirm, and _shit_ , his instincts were right; his partner's ever-sharp blue eyes had gone glassy, his voice had taken on a dazed edge, and rather than continuing to shrink into himself, he was standing and beginning to sway towards the man, who now wore the most vicious shit-eating grin.

Molly saw red. How dare he. HOW _DARE_ HE.

He found himself between the two a moment later, tail lashing like a whip as he shoved the man away. He snarled, making sure it gave a _full_ view of his fangs, and used the leverage he'd gained from the surprise attack to slam the man against the wall of the nook. He held his forearm pressed across the man's sternum, exerting enough pressure to let him know Molly meant _business_.

“I'm going to give you a chance, just _one_ -” he growled, careful not to slip into Infernal just yet, wanting his point put across clearly. “-to leave him be, to quietly walk out of here in one piece, to _never_ return, and to _never_ try that on another person _ever_ again.”

A sneer and a defiant jerk of the man's chin was what he got for his trouble.

“And what're you gonna do about it if I don't, huh? What business is it of yours?” He broke Molly's hold, pushing hard enough to make him back up a few steps to avoid stumbling backwards. “Your boy here said yes, you heard him.”

“You fucking--”

“Although,” His appraising eyes ran up and down the length of Molly's body in one quick motion. It made Molly feel like he needed a wash to get it off him. “If that makes you _jealous_ , you could always join us. Never had one of your lot before; heard it's _wild_.”

Layered through the invitation to join in, he felt the tug of a spell trying to influence his will. He started to lean instinctively towards the blonde but some combination of rage and the disgust he felt helped him shrug it off before it took full effect.

Molly quickly scanned left and right for anything he could improvise into a weapon, _dearly_ wishing that so much comfortable time spent in this inn hadn't made him sloppy enough to leave his swords in his room. Nothing beyond empty tankards within reach meant he'd have to do this the old-fashioned way. Which might have been fine – two years in a travelling carnival did wonders for a man's aptitude for scuffles and bar-fights – except despite being roaringly drunk, his opponent was still six solid feet of muscle and apparently some variety of spellcaster to boot.

Not ashamed to fight dirty under the circumstances, he lunged under the man’s guard, wanting to inflict as much pain as possible, grabbing him by the shoulders and driving his knee upward with as much force as he could muster. It had the intended effect, as the concentration broke on the spell and he heard Caleb gasp, swearing in Zemnian behind him.

A less welcome side-effect was that instead of getting the man to back off, it seemed to have just made him mad. Swearing from where he was bent double and leaning heavily on the table, he lunged up at Molly and jammed his shoulder full-force into his gut.

_Slam!_

Molly felt his back connect with the wall behind him and every breath of air in his body being forced out. Instead of letting him crumple to the floor as he'd expected, his attacker only pulled back a fraction to adjust his grip, rough hands quickly grabbing and-

“Fucking teach you to-”

_Slam!_

-driving Molly back against the wall. He saw stars as his skull ricocheted against the hard brick with a crack, and a wave of nausea swept over him.

“-get in my way you-”

_Slam!_

He dimly registered a voice that sounded like Caleb's shouting in the background but couldn't make out the words. It was all coming too fast for him to react, the pair of crushing hands holding his shoulder and waist seemed to have found their rhythm now and they jerked him forward and back once more.

“-fucking demon!”

_Slam!_

The same crack of his head making contact with the brickwork joined in this time around with a sickening crunch from lower down that made pain bloom across his ribcage.

“Get _off_ of him!”

The pressure lifted just enough for him to take a desperate gasp of air. The world swam back into focus and he saw Caleb – who could be knocked down by a stiff breeze on a good day – trying to physically drag his attacker off him by the shoulders. An odd mix of pride and fear joined the nausea. He slid out sideways from where he'd been pinned, grabbed the nearest heavy object (a thankfully sturdy chair) and tried to sweep the man's legs from under him. Between the two of them they managed to sloppily knock him to the floor. It was far from their most coordinated manoeuvre, but it worked.

“ _Leave_.” Molly gasped out, still trying desperately to catch his breath and doing his best to hide the fact he was supporting himself almost entirely with the chair, his free hand curled protectively around his ribs. Judging by the concern that flashed across Caleb's face, he wasn't doing a great job of it.

“...make you fucking pay!” The voice coming up from the floor was furious. The man scrambled up – his hair falling into his eyes and his face devolved into a sweaty mess – backed up a few steps and spat onto the floor beside Caleb's shoes. He cracked his knuckles and made to move towards Caleb.

Caleb didn't quite notice the new danger, fumbling frantically in his pack for his diamond, but Molly took the chance to improvise with the only weapon he had. He moved from holding his ribs to drag his claws down his own shoulder, ice crystals blossoming along the length of his hand, and slashed them wildly up across the man's face. It gouged a satisfying trail of blood from his jawline to the tip of his nose, and Molly really should have known not to take a moment to grin and admire his work before backing out of reach, because-

“Molly!”

_Hrrghk!_

-he didn't notice the meaty slab of a hand swinging up towards his throat until it had already had a chance to clamp down. A second hand joined it in a crushing fury, carrying him backwards and slaming him down, sprawled out across the low table in front of the fire, completely prone. A vindictive boot stomped on his tail where it had flopped to the floor and then ground in like he was trying to put out a cigarette. A startled, strangled cry ripped from Molly's throat with the last of his air.

“Don't you _touch_ him!” The search for the diamond completely forgotten, Caleb brought up his trembling hand, a firebolt dancing at his fingertips, ready to shoot. He faltered, seeing how precise his aim would have to be to avoid sending Molly up in flames as well, and instead threw himself over, grabbing and trying to physically pull the man off a second time. This time though, his attacker had far too effective an angle, bearing down with his full weight over Molly, and a firm grip. All Caleb could do was jostle him. The pressure let up for the barest moment as the man used one of his hands to toss Caleb away from them bodily. Molly heard but couldn't see him impact with the wall.

He scraped his own claws desperately, repeatedly across anything he could connect with – arms, shoulders, the hands that had formed a vice around his airway – and tried to find an angle to kick out with his legs, but any hit he landed just seemed to spur the man above him to squeezing ever-tighter.

“Stop! _Please!_ ” Caleb's voice was wrung-out, desperate as he made another attempt at pulling the man off him. “Please, I'll- I'll go with you. I'll do anything you want, please, just _stop!_ ”

“We'll go when I'm good and _finished_.” He snarled, his lips curled into a dark sneer. He made no move to let go.

The edges of Molly's vision were starting to narrow, his limbs cooperating less and less as he weakly lashed out, and all through it the eyes above him stayed focused on his face with a piercing glare. The single-mindedness to it was utterly terrifying, and he knew with a sudden and crushing certainty that the man was not going to let go until he'd finished Molly off completely. The small sliver of his mind that wasn't filled with mortal panic twisted with the thought of what he might intend to do to Caleb once Molly was out of the way.

His scattered thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of fingers snapping and suddenly Frumpkin appeared right above them, descending in a flurry of claws and hissing. The hands released, finally, as the man above him reared back, trying to protect his eyes from Frumpkin's sharp claws.

Molly gasped in desperate, greedy lungfuls of air, his heart pounding. Frantic hands tugged at his arm and he nearly took a swipe at them before realising they belonged to Caleb. It took a second longer than it really should have to realise Caleb was trying to get him to _move dammit, while he still had a chance_. He pulled his legs back and rolled, landing unsteadily in a crouch with Caleb supporting him.

A few feet away, the man pried Frumpkin's furious form off and tossed him to the side, where the small cat impacted roughly with the ground but – Molly noted with relief – didn't dissipate. Molly scrambled up into the most defensible stance he could manage – it involved leaning most of his weight on a nearby table, but it was at least vertical dammit. The man roared and began to lunge again, but before he could do anything, Caleb was standing bodily in front of him.

“You _will not_ touch him again.” Caleb's eyes were steely, his voice dark and venomous, the tips of his fingers blackening from the flame they now held ready, pointed directly at the man's chest. “I will burn you to _ashes_ where you stand before I let you. Is that clear?”

Molly's eyes widened, knowing exactly what following through on the threat would likely cost Caleb. He was certain, even so, that it wasn't a bluff.

A few tense, silent moments stretched between them, the only noise being Molly’s own attempts to catch his breath. With a sense of grim resignation, Molly saw the rage and determination fill the man's features. Clearly he'd decided the wounds they'd already caused to his pride demanded blood. As he started towards them again, a fist pulled back to strike--

\--a blur of familiar greys and blues streaked in front of them and a flurry of blows from Beau's fists knocked the man sideways.

“'Sup,” She jerked her chin at them, before turning back to face her opponent, a barely concealed undercurrent of anger in her eyes. “Wanna tell me what the _fuck_ you think you're doing messing with my boys?”

Whatever answer he might have given was lost as Yasha strode silently past them, lifting the man bodily off the ground and holding him against the wall, at just the right height to stare into her eyes. Her presence felt like it filled the entire space. The air felt almost statically charged, like a storm about to break.

“My friend here looks hurt.” Her voice was deep and steady, but Molly had known her long enough to spot the lines of tension in her muscles, and the vein standing out slightly at the side of her neck. “Would you like to tell me how that happened?”

 _Good old Yasha_ , Molly thought blearily. _Always shows up right when you need her_.

For the first time, true fear seemed to enter the man's eyes, but it seemed that pigheadedness and pride was still overriding self-preservation.

“L-listen lady, your buddy here shouldn't start shit he can't finish, alright?” He started out unsure, but confidence seemed to build as he went on. “I'm just here trying to get laid and the fucking _freakshow_ comes to town to cockblock me--”

“You _tried_ ,” Molly spat at the highest volume his throat would allow. “to use a _spell_ on Caleb to _force him to sleep with you_!”

Beau snarled, fists clenching at her side, ready to strike, but Yasha beat her to it. No sooner had the words left Molly's lips than a fury lit in her eyes and she'd knocked him out with one swift blow to the head. She let him crumple to the ground, looking like she was considering getting another few hits in, then heaved him up unceremoniously over her shoulder.

“Would you help me find a crownsguard?” She asked Beau, who nodded with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Yasha gave Molly a quick once-over – he flashed her a thumbs up and a weak smile – before carting her quarry out the door, Beau following behind her.

~

The silence left in their wake was absolutely deafening.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, all the fight drained out of Molly in an instant. He slumped into the nearest chair, suddenly boneless and exhausted. His head was pounding from having to run on adrenaline and fumes and not nearly enough oxygen these last few minutes, and he let it fall back over the edge of the chair.

In the back of his mind he knew it was a bad position to leave himself in. Injured, vulnerable, eyes slipping closed, the pulse of his neck exposed to the room at large even; but as it stood, the choices left to him were 'collapse in the chair now' or 'collapse to the floor ten seconds from now'. Even so, he noted with a hint of surprise that he felt a deep certainty that his friends and his partner would keep him safe, that he had people he could trust with himself in this vulnerable state. It was... nice, he had to admit.

“Molly. _Molly!_ ” Caleb's voice broke on his name and his eyes slid open to meet a pair of blue ones, brimming with tears threatening to spill. Caleb's hands hovered over him, shaking, almost like he was afraid to touch. As his eyes opened fully, the hands moved to tenderly hold the sides of his face. Caleb brought his forehead down to press gently against his, and his eyes fell closed, a few of the tears falling silently.

“My hero.” Molly croaked, wincing slightly at the sound of his own voice.

“Hey. That is _my_ line, _ja_?” Caleb pulled back to look him over, hands never leaving his face. A soft, watery smile and a look of absolute fondness played across his features, unfortunately crumpling into something much more pained after a moment. “Oh, _mein Schatz, mein Liebling_ , I'm so _sorry_.”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Molly moved to sit up and _oh no_. That was a _mistake_. The adrenaline fading, his ribs weren't allowing themselves to be ignored anymore. He subsided back into the chair with an undignified huff, his next words lost.

Wincing, he decided to try again. “This isn't your fault, love. You didn't do this.”

He could literally see Caleb wanting to argue, itching to take all the responsibility and blame onto himself, the urge to self-flagellate visibly warring with the need to avoid causing Molly any further distress.

He decided to head it off before it could grow, flicking his partner gently but firmly on the forehead, right where he had planted his first kiss in the gnoll mines, then beckoning him in closer until he could place another kiss there without jarring his ribs.

“No ifs, no buts, alright?”

Caleb acquiesced with a nod and a soft smile.

“We should get you upstairs.” He frowned, trying to assess how he'd manage that. “Hold onto me and try to move from your legs and shoulders, not your middle, _ja_?”

As soon as Molly's arms were secure around his shoulders, Caleb twined his arms around his hips, determinedly ignoring the awkwardness as it left his face slightly smushed into Molly's chest. Together they scooted Molly forward to the edge of the chair. Molly tried to suppress any noises of pain, because they made Caleb pause and slowed the whole process down to an irritating degree, but eventually between them managed to get him on his feet at least.

“ _Oof_ , this would be much easier if Yasha or Beau were still here.” Caleb muttered as he lifted, taking most of the weight of Molly’s upper half.

Upright now but still wobbly, he tried to gain a better balance, widening his arms and flicking out his--

“ _Fuck_!” He hissed, nearly crumpling in on himself.

“Oh Molly, your _tail_.” Caleb's voice was stricken.

Hesitantly following his line of sight down to the source of the pain, he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he took in the definite kink in his tail. Something about the sharp change in angle towards the lower part of it just felt viscerally _wrong_ in a way all his slashes and cuts and bruises never have. He clamped down on the fresh wave off  nausea and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the burn it produced around his ribs.

_Don't be a baby, you've been hurt plenty before. It'll heal. It'll heal._

“ _Mein Engel_ , you're alright, it's alright.” Caleb murmured, pulling his face to look somewhere, anywhere else. His expression must have given him away. “We'll fix it. Jester will have her spells in the morning.”

He nodded shakily.

~

The journey up the stairs was nobody's definition of fun either. Molly’s legs were too busy shaking and feeling like blocks of lead to do much in the way of walking, and Caleb had a limited amount of angles to support him from that didn't cause more problems with his ribs.

“Was I hallucinating or did Beau call us her boys back there?” He volunteered to distract them.

“You know, I think she did?” Caleb huffed out a laugh.

“Maybe Yasha's been putting in a good word for us.”

“For _you_ , maybe.”

“I think you just underestimate your charm, dear.” Molly tried to raise his hand from Caleb's shoulder to boop his nose, but ended up awkwardly poking him in the jaw instead. He was saved from having to try again as they finally reached the landing.

Blessedly the door to the room Caleb shared with Nott – and lately also Molly – was unlocked. He perched on the edge of the bed, wondering how inadvisable it would be to just lie down and sleep without checking to see what the damage was. Jester would heal him in the morning regardless, and the softness of the pillow just looked so terribly inviting...

“We'll need to find something to clean those.” Caleb's voice broke into his thoughts, as if he'd read his mind. He was worrying his bottom lip and gesturing between Molly's shoulder – where he'd raked his claws to draw blood – and... the back of his head?

Confused, Molly reached his hand back through his hair. He felt a sticky patch around the point where he'd impacted with the wall and when he looked at his fingers, they’d come away bloody. He assumed if it was anything overly serious, Caleb would be fussing _far_ more, so it was likely just some grazing from the brickwork, but it still concerned him that he hadn't noticed it.

In the meantime, Caleb had ducked over to the other side of the room, rummaging around in the gap between Nott's bed and the window.

“I'm sure she won't mind, under the circumstances.” He came up a moment later with Nott's flask in hand. He left it on the nightstand and did a similar search for a waterskin and some rags. He sat down as carefully as he could behind Molly and placed the supplies beside them on the bed. “This will hurt a bit, alright?”

“Who could have known you had such a strong mother hen in you?” Molly rolled his eyes, endeared despite himself. He'd cleaned out enough of his own cuts – many that he'd caused with his own swords – with cheap booze to know and accept the sting that came with it, but it was nice in a way, to be treated with this much care by someone.

“Hush. Stay still and let me clean these up.”

A gentle hand on his horn guided his head down. He leaned back into the warmth and support of Caleb's body, making sure to gently place his tail where it wouldn't be pressed between them, and let the man go about his work. Careful fingers teased bloody strands of his hair out of the way, gently zeroing in on the source of the bleeding. He poured some of the water to wash the blood away and Molly jumped slightly as a stray trickle ran the length of his spine. Next, he soaked one of the rags with Nott's strange cocktail of spirits from various bars and dabbed at the areas of broken skin. Molly did his best to suppress a hiss.

The back of his head tended to, Caleb snaked an arm across his chest from behind to reach the claw marks on his shoulder. Molly let himself melt into the embrace, the sting barely registering anymore as he lost track of his train of thought in the rhythm of Caleb's breathing.

“There.” Caleb finished by placing a soft kiss to his cheek, then moved to do the same on the other side, his thumb brushing Molly's jaw. Molly leaned into the touch again, eyes drifting shut until he caught himself swaying slightly.

Gentle hands guided him down into a lying position, then Caleb moved off the bed so he could pull his legs up. Molly whined slightly at the loss of contact and Caleb chuckled.

“I will be back as soon as I put these away, don't worry.”

“Tell Nott I'll buy her a drink to make up for it.” He murmured. He let his eyes drift closed, listening to the rustling sounds Caleb made as he tidied things away.

_Knock, knock._

“Hey.” Beau's sudden appearance startled him enough to open his eyes. She stood in the doorway, holding up a healing potion in her hand and his coat draped over her arm. “Special delivery.”

“Oh, _thank you_!” Caleb's eyes lit up. He looked like he was very seriously considering trying to hug her.

“Yasha still had two of these. She figured he'd need one, but she had her hands full of that asshole.” The shrug that accompanied the words was so casual it could only be forced. She cocked her head towards where Molly lay on the bed. “How's he doing?”

“My dear sweet Beauregard, I didn't know you cared!” There was still a rasp to his voice that ruined his mocking tone somewhat, but she gave him an eye-roll and the finger anyway, so he considered it a success.

“Fine, go save yourself next time, dumbass.” She passed the coat and the healing potion into Caleb's hands and gave him a clap on the back that knocked him slightly off-balance. On her way out the door, she added: “Go patch his stupid ass up so I can give him a hard time again without feeling guilty. I'm going to bed.”

“ _Told_ you she was warming up to us.” He let his eyes start to drift closed, but the sound of breath hitching from the centre of the room had them pulling apart.

Caleb was holding the potion in his hands like a precious jewel, eyes starting to brim again, but a smile stretching across his face. Before Molly could even respond, he'd crossed the room in two strides and knelt down beside the bed, still beaming in a way that made Molly's heart fill up like it might crack in two.

“ _This_. With this I can make things better; I can actually _help_ you.” He enveloped Molly's hands in his own, pressing the potion into them but leaving the warmth of his hands to seep into Molly's skin.

“You've done plenty of helping already, love. Though I will admit,” He placed a quick kiss to Caleb's knuckles before pulling the potion free and taking out the stopper. “The thought of some magical healing adding to the help is very, _very_ welcome.”

The cool liquid slipped down his throat and the distinctive sensation of healing magic started throughout his body, targeting the biggest problems first. He pulled in a deep, full breath, his ribs knitted back together to the point of just a dull ache, and the quality to the soreness of his throat changed significantly. There was a specific brand of relief that came with a pain being taken away – like letting out a breath you didn't realise you were holding – and he revelled in the feeling of freedom and wellbeing that came with his simple lungful of air.

He almost didn't want to look at his tail as it re-aligned itself, but the urge to make sure it was being set right won out in the end. He gingerly curled it around into his line of sight and was delighted to see it righted back into one smooth curve. He could live with the slight stiffness and the nasty bruises that now looked a day or so old. They would, he presumed, match the ones sure to be all over his throat and the lower half of his chest.

The more major jobs seemed to have used up most of the potion's magic, because the cuts on his shoulder and the back of his head were mostly unaffected, but again, he was more than happy to take it.

Caleb seemed to visibly relax too, some of the harsher lines of worry around his eyes easing out. He ran a finger down the now-smooth line of Molly's tail, the clever bastard, knowing from past experience the effect the right touch there could have on him. Molly didn't even bother trying to suppress the pleasant shiver that ran through him, and he beckoned Caleb to come up off the floor and join him on the bed. He doubted either of them were in a state for anything strenuous, but to be with each other, just drinking in the feel of each other's bodies, sharing space, sharing heat... Yes, that was something he wanted after today.

Caleb pushed off the floor, trailing his hand up the length of Molly's tail again as he turned to look into his eyes--

\--and let out a gasp, looking stricken again and staring down at his neck.

“Darling?”

He watched as Caleb hurriedly composed himself.

“I. Sorry, it is just... Your neck...” He finished the climb onto the bed gingerly, ending with his hand cupping Molly's jaw. “You can see his _hands_ in the bruises.”

He sighed and Molly could see the self-flagellation starting to rear its head once more.

“Caleb...”

“I just wish you hadn't had to put yourself in such danger on my behalf.”

“Caleb, he was going to-- He used a _spell_ , you couldn't have-- He would've...” He trails off. He doesn't want to verbalise it, the anger welling up from where it had rested while he had had more life-threatening concerns.

“ _Liebling_ , I... I thought I would lose you. I thought he was going to _kill_ you.” Caleb whispered, barely above silence, like the gods themselves might hear it and decide to make it true after all. “And I could do _nothing_ to stop it.”

“I...” Molly breathed out a small nervous laugh, one of his hands ghosting absently over his neck. They were safe now, no point in lying about this. “There was a moment there I was afraid of that myself.”

He swallowed thickly, the reality of it hitting him at last. Those crushing hands, the venom in those eyes that had stared down at him, Caleb begging in the background...

“Hey.” Caleb broke into his thoughts before they could take too strong a hold, brushing his hair away from his face, he laid a kiss on his forehead. “Time for that later?”

“Time for that later.” He nodded and scooted down slightly to lay his head into the crook of Caleb's neck, inhaling his familiar comforting scent. Molly's tail swished by Caleb's face and he leaned forward to gently kiss it.

“Molly, Molly, Mollymauk,” Caleb murmured absently, threading his fingers through Molly's hair over and over, running his thumb along the point where his horns joined his head, even doing something that was suspiciously similar to how he often scritched Frumpkin behind the ears. He felt like maybe he should object to being handled like a cat, but he had to admit, it was soothing.

As he lay there, he could feel each of his tired and sore muscles starting to relax as he timed his breaths with Caleb's. He felt the man under him shift slightly and a blanket being pulled around his shoulders. He just stayed there, relaxing by degrees, feeling perfectly, wonderfully safe – taking in Caleb's scent, Caleb's warmth, Caleb's heartbeat – until he finally drifted peacefully into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> (Ok, so in regards to the Implied Attempted Non-Con aspect: A random bar man decides not to take no for answer and tries to use a suggestion spell to override Caleb's will and get him to come with him. Molly steps in before anything more happens. Be safe xx)
> 
> If you want to join me in yelling about Critical Role over on tumblr, you'll find me at lucyinthesoupwithcroutons.


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